


Forget me not

by Anonymous



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Ghost Oh Sehun, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Slight horror, mentions of sehun's death, no jongin doesnt fuck sehun's ghost, widow jongin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:21:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29935419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Kim Jongin is a dance teacher who lost his husband Oh Sehun five years ago. He still returned to their old home every spring to celebrate their anniversary. This time around, however, Jongin was determined to finally sell the house and find closure in his last visit. Sehun, on the other hand, just wasn't ready to let go.
Relationships: Kim Jongin | Kai/Oh Sehun
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23
Collections: monthlysekai's Flower Garden





	Forget me not

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ THE TAGS BEFORE PROCEEDING I BEG U
> 
> tw: mentions of death and blood.
> 
> Bouquet of Forget me nots for monthlysekai's Challenge #5

Sehun liked watching the cherry blossom petals fly around his porch through the glass windows, nose inches from touching the cold surface as he rested his head on the wall. He stared at the little dances they made before falling softly on the untrimmed grass, trying to remember how it felt like to hold one in his hand.

It always brought some sense of comfort to his heart, knowing spring was already here after another long, lonely winter.

\--

Jongin wiped the dirt off his shoes on the dog shaped mat giving a little touch of life to the front door. He even thought of not doing it, of just entering the house with mud on his sneakers and making a mess out of the faded carpet, what difference would it make? It wasn't as if anybody would reprimand him for it, much less even see it.

However, he refrained from doing so. It didn't feel right, in a way, to expect something different out of this whole situation other than the deafening quietness that took over that house five years ago. Part of his brain still hoped for that familiar, high pitched screech he heard whenever he came home from work and forgot to leave his dirty, worn out boots on the porch.

"I just cleaned this shit!" Sehun would say, wide eyed and all. And Jongin, weirdly lovestruck as always, would only laugh and let his husband do as he wished. In his defence, teaching dance classes from nine to five with only an hour of lunch break sucked the life out of him some days, so it was understandable.

If Jongin was lucky, they would even end up fucking right then and there in the entrance hall, chanting mantras like:

"I can't live without you, Sehun." Jongin would breathe out as his eager hands roamed Sehun's body. 

And Sehun would immediately reply with some still unknown lie, like:

"You don't have to, I'm right here."

And then they would move on, splashing around the puddle of dirt Jongin brought inside, which would just turn into another left out mark of their neediness for one another.

Sighing at the rush of flashbacks, Jongin took his shoes off and neatly placed them by the front door.

A chill ran through his spine the moment he stepped a foot inside, making his hairs get up as in an attempt to warn him about how he shouldn't be there, how he should leave and never return, how he should have done that five years ago but never had the courage.

The house looked nothing like it did in the old days. That smell of mold also differed a lot from back when he and Sehun would fill the house with the aroma of whatever recipe they decided to cook. Many times it would turn into an embarrassingly ugly dish that they'd just leave untouched inside the fridge for days.

There was a fine layer of dust from the last time Jongin had been there to clean. Like a stuck up fool who can't take a hint, he did that every spring for the past five years as some sort of celebration for their anniversary. Nevertheless, he liked to think that there was a purpose in those acts apart from his mere obsession (compulsion, even) with the long gone past. However, the reality was that nothing would change. Sehun won't ever be back in his arms again.

Nothing much was left there anyway, save from some furniture and a handful of their belongings. Each time Jongin visited, he would leave with a few extra items with him, as though he would be able to slowly detach himself from that place that way, piece by piece.

\--

Sehun was the happiest when Jongin visited, jumping all around his husband in an attempt to be seen or heard. It never worked, though. Like trying to blow air into a balloon full of holes. 

This time, however, Sehun noticed that something was off about Jongin. His expression looked oddly unreadable and he seemed somehow... determined? As if there were no doubts left in him.

Sehun's suspicion was confirmed when Jongin received a phone call.

"Hello? Ah, yes Mr. Park, I'm just taking a last look inside the house and grabbing some remains. Yes, I will be done by tomorrow and then you can start scheduling visits from potential buyers." Jongin spoke with a definite tone while clenching his jawline. "Okay, thank you for calling. Bye bye."

Meanwhile, Sehun only stood there, hands closed tight on his sides as tears ran down his cheeks.

\--

The truth was that every time Jogin was in that house, be it for ten minutes or the three hours it took for him to clean up all of the rooms, his brain was always overflowed with thoughts of Sehun. His husband was there in every single corner, sitting on every chair and looking out of every window with this serene aura only an angel could compare. If Jongin focused well, he could even feel Sehun's head resting on his shoulder at times.

Jongin found himself so lost in those memories that he failed to notice how the lights flickered after he ended the call with his agent.

Anyhow, there were still a few photos of them kept inside a locked wardrobe upstairs, for Jongin was never brave enough to recollect. However, now was the time, so he carefully walked up the wooden stairs, wincing at the loud creaking sounds coming from under his feet.

Noticing that their former room's door was opened slightly ajar, Jongin stopped in his tracks and frowned. It was a habit for him to close all doors before he left at every visit, so he was sure he'd done the same in his last one.

Taking hesitant steps along the empty hall, Jongin paused for a moment before entering their old room. It was already dark outside, so he carefully pushed the door open and looked around the dim lit bedroom, stopping his gaze by the giant rusty mirror leaned on the wall in front of him. Jongin saw himself in the dark, and a tall dark figure right beside him. 

Quickly reaching for the switch, he flipped on the lights. When his eyes got used to the sudden brightness, Jongin could see his reflection once again, next to him nothing more than an old coat hanger.

"Get your head on straight, Kim Jongin." He murmured to himself, finally walking inside while his heart thumped strongly against his chest.

That room held an eerie atmosphere in itself after being empty for so long. What was once Jongin's favourite place to be with Sehun, now was solely an awful reminder of his late husband's last days. There was no bed anymore, and it was almost impossible to tell that the wallpaper was actually off white in the past.

As his breathing seemed to ease from the earlier shock, Jongin got a hold of the key sitting heavy in his back pocket and opened the wooden wardrobe. With unusually shaky hands, he reached for the box where he had kept his favorite photos with Sehun and sat down on the floor, slowly placing his cold fingers on the lid before opening it.

Dozens of smiling Sehun's graced his vision, either hand in hand with Jongin next to their favourite ice scream shop, playfully accepting a fake bouquet from Jongin who was kneeling on the floor (thanks to their friend Baekhyun for that perfect sneaky shot) or simply lounging in the couch downstairs, with Jongin laying down on Sehun's lap. There were also some pictures Jongin had taken of Sehun making funny faces at the camera, bathing him in warmth. He only noticed his tears when a fat drop fell in the last photo of the pile in his hands.

Wiping them away, Jongin scanned through the pictures once again, only to realize one of them was missing. His favourite one, the one he and Sehun took in Jongin's high school graduation.

That was weird, considering he'd never dared to touch those since Sehun's death. Jongin figured he must have taken it home with him on some other visit and just didn't remember it. His mind was always the haziest when he was at that house, so it was a possibility.

It didn't matter, anyway. It wasn't like a couple of pictures would help him fill in the deep empty spot in his heart. Memories were basically that, only memories. Moments of people's lives their brain was too flawed to forget. And while Jongin was still thankful for what he and Sehun lived together, he sometimes wished he could empty his consciousness of it all, so that the blank space his husband once occupied could finally be refilled.

Next to the photos was a voice recorder, one they used since they were teenagers as some sort of shared diary. They took turns at keeping it, sometimes Jongin would have it for a week, then others Sehun would keep it with him for a whole month, claiming that he had a lot to say. As they got older, the recorder became more like a token of their relationship. They wouldn't use it as much, but they were also unable to get rid of it or its old tapes.

Smiling softly at that little throwback, Jongin noticed a tape still inside that recorder. Without putting too much thought, he pressed play.

"Kim Kai." Jongin chuckled at the nickname Sehun used to call him. His husband's soothing voice echoed in the bedroom. "The flowers outside are so pretty, I'm looking at them right now. They remind me of you, it's calming. I know I shouldn't have left the bed, but I couldn't help it, the day is so nice. I just had to come down and take a look, you know? While I still can. I don't think I have a lot of time le-" Jongin stopped the tape, harshly shoving the voice recorder into his pocket,

In his head, the man made a silent promise to himself. ‘ _Next time’_.

Before Jongin could lift himself up, all of the lights in the house suddenly blacked out. Cold swept through his nape, sending a shiver down his spine as he remained glued in the spot like a rock, pausing for a moment to gather his racing thoughts.

The house was old, so were the wires, and since no one had been there for a year, a power outage wasn't much of a mind-boggling incident, Jongin rationalized before directing himself straight to the basement to check the main electrical panel.

Almost afraid of breaking the stillness in the house, Jongin cautiously walked down both flights of stairs, hyper aware of his surroundings in order not to bump into any missed furniture. His eyes still hadn't gotten used to the darkness down there, so it was a surprise when a sharp pain under his bare right foot made him halt in his tracks.

"Ow! What the fuck?" Jongin hissed while lifting his leg up to check the sole of his foot.

Even in the dark, the man could see the tiny pieces of glass piercing through his skin, and the smell of fresh blood was unmistakable.

Promptly grabbing his phone, Jongin turned on its flashlight and pointed directly to where he had stepped on before. Shattered in pieces, what was once a photo frame now lied completely broken, but what was right beneath it was what made his breath hitch. The photo with Sehun that Jongin had been looking for earlier, with Jongin resting his head on Sehun's shoulder while holding the flowers that had been gifted to him by the same boy, both in uniform, exuding youthfulness and innocence under the glass bits and Jongin's own blood.

Before he could react, a loud ringing sound reverberated in the attic, making him jump and drop his phone in the process. Jongin was receiving a call.

Looking down, the man's blood turned cold the moment when he read the name "Sehunnie~" on the screen.

In all honesty, Jongin was never brave enough to delete Sehun's contact number, so seeing that old nickname he had given him back when they were kids was both nostalgic and utterly terrifying. Grabbing onto that irrational spark of hope, Jongin promptly answered, squeezing the phone tightly against his ear to the point of hurting and with eyes threatening to pop out of his skull. In the call, however, only a faint breathing noise could be heard before the line went dead.

Sharp claws of despair scratched deeply onto Jongin's chest, embracing him into a feeling of panic. He dialed that same number and pressed call.

"We're sorry, we are unable to complete your call as dia-" Jongin frowned as rage filled him at every word he listened.

Next thing he knew, his phone was on the ground, screen cracked from the impact of the throw.

After a moment too long of bewilderment at his own outburst, Jongin reached down to get a hold of the broken smartphone and the stained photograph, cautious not to touch any other pieces of glass in the way. Carefully tucking away the picture after cleaning the blood on it as best as he could, the man limped towards the house's electric panel, switching the power back on and returning to the living room where he left his bag. Jongin always carried a first aid kit with him, one of the perks of being a dance teacher, he supposed.

The awful feeling in his gut had yet to ease when he sat on the couch to begin working on his wounds. Meanwhile, a much greater scar was slowly opening itself up once again the more Jongin stayed in that house.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. Jongin thought he would go there, fetch their stuff and finally put an end to this whole thing, to finally find closure, but what granted him instead was a turmoil of unanswered questions and a dilacerated foot.

\--

Sehun despised a lot of things. Cheap wine, gory horror movies and the colour grey, for instance. He also loathed seeing Jongin cry.

In the past five years, he had only witnessed it on Jongin's first visit after his death. It was a one time occurence, though. Jongin usually tended to keep his worries to himself until they overflowed. When they did, however, Sehun's heart always ached, especially when he was the reason for Jongin's tears.

Sitting cross legged on the carpet, Sehun only stared at Jongin, who was on the sofa patching up his wounds. Newsflash, Sehun acted impulsively whenever he got really upset, but that did nothing to mitigate the guilt that rested low on his chest as he watched Jongin wince at every swipe of the remedy soaked cotton ball on the cuts.

"I'm sorry." Sehun whispered, uselessly.

Instead of granting him any acknowledgement, Jongin kept on quietly taking care of his foot.

Sehun couldn't help but notice the new lines starting to mark Jongin's forehead and the corner of his mouth. No matter how many years passed, Jongin was still the most beautiful person in Sehun's eyes.

After finishing up the bandages, Jongin broke away Sehun's haze the moment he looked directly in his direction. In shock, Sehun's eyes widened as Jongin got up from the couch and started walking towards him, only to sigh in disappointment when his husband just passed through him without sparing a single glance. Turning around, Sehun noticed where he was going.

Relaxing on Sehun's favourite spot by the windows, Jongin pulled out their old recorder and brought it closer to his lips while gazing at the garden outside. He pressed play.

"Hi Sehunnie, it's me." Jongin started, voice wavering. "I still can't listen to your last recording, I'm sorry about that. Now that I think about it, there are a lot of things I feel sorry for, but I'll focus on the good ones because they always fill my mind when I reminisce of you. Along the past five years I've missed you so much, until this day I wake up and still hope for you to be there, by my side." He sighed before continuing.

"We lived through a lot together, didn't we?" Sehun heard him chuckle. "Like the Moon orbiting the Earth, which then circles around the Sun, I feel like we were stuck in that same pattern since we were kids. Sometimes I think about how fast time passes by and it's crazy, but if there's one constant in my life, it's you Oh Sehun. Even if you aren't here physically, reviving our memories brings me the most joy, because I remember that at least I had the pleasure of knowing you, of growing up with you and sharing my life with your life. I think not many people are this lucky, so I'm truly thankful for having you. Yes, having. Because you'll always be a part of me. I may leave this house behind now, but that doesn't mean I will ever forget our past. Far from it, actually. You're the one who's my home, Sehun. Always will be. I hope that, wherever you are, you will think of me, as well. I love you."

Another click echoed in the room.

Upon hearing Jongin's words, Sehun calmly lifted himself from the floor to sit right in front of him with a smile. The tears in his eyes reflected Jongin's, the only difference being that Sehun cried of pure contentment.

Leaning closer, Sehun placed both of his hands on each side of Jongin's face, who looked forward. For a moment, Sehun felt seen, gently brushing his lips to his husband's soft ones. Then, he began to drift away in complete bliss, finally being able to free himself from where his soul had been stranded for the past five years.

In a way, Jongin felt free, too.

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know what this fic was. nevertheless, thank u for reading it <3


End file.
